


Crutches

by KittyCatriona (War_Worn_Lipstick)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2015/2016, Alternate Universe, Anorexia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Worn_Lipstick/pseuds/KittyCatriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s his favorite cereal; Phil bought Dan’s favorite cereal. Dan’s heart aches, but in that way where it sort of hurts so bad it extends through his sternum, collar bone, and somehow up into his shoulders, and suddenly, wow, everything aches, and he realizes that maybe it’s not the cereal or Phil that’s doing this to him, but it could be the cereal or Phil that makes it stop. </p><p>Phil is out of the question, though, so cereal it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crutches

**Author's Note:**

> I've read so many eating disorder AU's in the past few days... I just needed to add my own, you know? It's nothing special, though, plot-wise. It just needed to be done.
> 
> As far as my writing style goes: I apologize. I do actually understand grammar, I just choose to ignore it sometimes (always). All I know is that there are a lot of commas and run-on sentences, but I (personally) feel they create a sort of unique rhythm that I really enjoy.

**1- Where Dan Is Slipping Slightly**

There’s a day, several, really, when Dan sees his best friend lounging on the sofa, half asleep, and he loses himself a bit, and he thinks that maybe he’d prefer it if he’d just gone to law school, just gone on with his life and accepted the fact that he’d, okay, yes, be miserable, but wow. Nothing could be worse than this. 

There’s a day when Phil is there, and he’s everything Dan could ever want, but he’s entirely out of reach. And that day is every day, every day since years ago—how many years ago?—when Dan had told Phil how he felt. And Phil had given him that look, that look that has haunted Dan every moment they’ve been together since, and he’d told Dan, “I’m sorry…” and Dan could see that cringe in his best friend’s eyes, that regret for having let Dan move in with him. “…I just don’t really see you that way.” 

Dan had laughed in response, and then he told Phil off for taking him so seriously. He said, “Of course I don’t like you like—like that, you—you absolute nimwit! Do you—do you know what a joke is?” And Phil had given him such a sympathetic smile, because he knew, and Dan knew, and they both knew that the other knew, but Phil was just too sweet to hurt Dan by saying anything further on the subject. Dan had left a few minutes later and spent an hour or so crying in the shower. 

And there’s a day when Dan just wishes that he’d never seen Phil’s videos on Youtube, that he’d never made the trip out to hang with him for that first time, and that he’d never, ever moved in with him. 

There’s a day when Dan is stumbling into the kitchen, early morning, and that day is today. Phil is leaning against the counter, and he’s thankfully already made some coffee. His long legs, still clad in bright, patterned pajamas, stretch out in front of him, and between his fingers he has his favorite mug. Dan got Phil that mug for his birthday a few years ago. He takes a sip of the coffee inside as his eyes survey Dan. 

“Mornin,’” Dan grumbles, tearing his own eyes, which, like usual, feel somewhat vacant, away from Phil. He gets a mug for himself. It’s a DanAndPhilGAMES one. 

As he’s pouring the coffee, watching the steam curl and disappear, Phil says, “Want some cereal? I was just about to make myself some.” His voice is low and gravelly, like it always is in the morning before the caffeine sets in.

Dan pauses for a moment, which results in a small splash of burning liquid landing hot on his hand, and he hisses and wipes it off on his pajama pants. Phil watches him as he then takes the already-red burn into his mouth to alleviate the pain. “I’m good, thanks,” he mumbles around his hand. A second later, he picks up the DanAndPhilGAMES mug in his uninjured hand and leaves to drink his coffee in his bedroom.

* * *

Dan is doing jumping jacks in the living room when Phil comes back from the grocery store. He has a bag with milk and a new box of cereal. When they lock eyes, Phil starts to laugh, and Dan immediately freezes. He knows he looks ridiculous; there’s barely enough space between the TV and the couch for anyone to work out, let alone a six-foot-tall, lumbering guy like him. Plus, with every jump, he could feel the extra flesh on him pull and flop, heaving up and down, obeying gravity instead of his wishes. He really, really doesn’t blame Phil for laughing.

“What are you doing?” Phil asks in the same way someone might ask “Are you _kidding?_ ” He moves to put the grocery bag on the countertop in the kitchen. Dan shakes his head, bright red from both his workout and the shame. He’d been going strong for about fifteen minutes before Phil arrived, variating between squats, jumping jacks, high-knees, and push-ups. He keeps his eyes on the floor. 

“You know,” Phil’s grin grows, “if your fans find out you’ve been exercising, they’ll unsubscribe.” 

Dan jolts and peers up at Phil, shock and confusion evident in his eyes.

Phil waits for a response, expecting something witty, but doesn’t get one. He shifts his weight. Dan notices Phil’s hips are wide, and there’s pudge thick on his abdomen and thighs, but still, somehow, Phil manages to look so good. Dan thinks about the way his own weight distributes, and he reminds himself that he didn’t eat yesterday or the day before, so he _has_ to eat today, even if he doesn’t want to. 

“Because you know,” Phil clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “They think you’re all uninspired and lazy and stuff. If you spring this on them, they’ll, like, combust.”

Dan snorts. “Trust that I’m still uninspired and lazy. But I’d like to register at least a little more self-control.” His tone is more aggravated than he intended. 

Phil smiles at him, and Dan suddenly feels guilty. “I don’t mind you exercising, Dan. You can do whatever you want.” Then, quieter, “I was just joking around.”

Dan runs his fingers through his fringe, then tugs at it slightly. It’s wet from sweat. “I’m sorry. I’m just. Bad day.”

“Did something happen?” Phil asks, immediately concerned. He takes a few steps closer to Dan, stretches his arm out, and then stops. A second later, he’s crossed his arm across his body to scratch his neck and is trying to make it look like he hadn’t just been reaching for Dan.

“No, not at all,” Dan says, casting Phil a confused look before going to put the milk in the fridge. He’s only just picked it up when he sees the new box of cereal. It’s his favorite cereal; Phil bought Dan’s favorite cereal. Dan’s heart aches, but in that way where it sort of hurts so bad it extends through his sternum, collar bone, and somehow up into his shoulders, and suddenly, wow, everything aches, and he realizes that maybe it’s not the cereal or Phil that’s doing this to him, but it could be the cereal or Phil that makes it stop. 

Phil is out of the question, though. 

The older boy watches as Dan gets a bowl down and fixes himself a bowl of the cereal. Dan does his best to appear at ease, like nothing is at all wrong, but he’s hurting and his joints are locking up, and lifting his arms at all or bending over in the slightest sends shooting pain up his sternum that makes him want to cry out. To think that, moments ago, he was doing jumping jacks…

“Are you okay?” Phil asks, still standing in the exact same spot, his face etched with worry. Dan lowers himself into a chair at the dining table. 

“Yeah, just, you know, sore from the workout.” He supposes that’s probably at least a little bit true.

“Already?”

“Can you just—” Dan grips his spoon, staring straight ahead. “Can I—can I just eat, please? Can you leave me alone for just one fucking second?”

“Yeah,” Phil chokes, “sorry.” As soon as he’s left the room, Dan feels the full weight of his words, and, after making sure he isn’t going to cry, he tells himself that he doesn’t want Phil there anyways, because he doesn’t want Phil to watch him eat. He then devours his cereal, pours himself a second, third, and, finally, fourth bowl. 

* * *

 

 

**2- Where Dan Has Fallen**

Dan spent all of yesterday eating everything he could find. After the cereal binge, he just kept going, incapable of telling himself no, incapable of forcing himself to stop. He regrets it, so much, because, now, he thinks it’s around four in the afternoon and he still hasn’t left his bed. There’s an ache in his hips that pangs into his gut with every breath, and he knows that if he could just _get it out_ he would feel so much better, but he also knows that he’s really fucking constipated and probably will continue to be until sometime tomorrow. Besides the pain, when he looks down at himself he sees his protruding belly, and when he holds out his hands he sees that his fingers are thick and sweaty, and he wants to throw up but he knows that, One, it’s too late for that, and Two, he’s never been able to get his gag reflex to do his bidding before, so why should it start now? Oh, and Three, that’s a whole new level of fucked up that he just isn’t ready to cross. 

Phil checks on him at six, coming in and sitting on the edge of his bed, peering at him like he’s some kind of freak show, asking if he’s okay and then joking about how Dan should maybe not come near him, he doesn’t want to get infected, ha ha. Dan silently agrees. Phil asks Dan if he needs anything, if he thinks he could keep down some soup, or if he wants some tea, and Dan tells him no, “I can get water myself if I need it.” His voice holds just the slightest amount of that aggravation from yesterday, and Phil gets the hint and leaves.

At eight, Dan finally manages to crawl out of bed and get to the bathroom, where he splashes water on his face, takes off all of his clothes, prods at himself in front of the mirror, and then gets on the scale. Sixty-three point six-eight-four kilograms. He swallows down a sob and collapses on the closed seat of the toilet, head in his hands. Two days ago he was at sixty-three point zero-zero-one. 

He thinks about how he was planning on filming a video tomorrow, but now he’ll have to wait, because there’s no way he’s getting in front of a camera when he’s this repulsive.

He takes too many laxatives and puts his boxers and t-shirt back on before going back to his room and falling down onto his bed. When he’s just about to drift asleep, he remembers that he hasn’t done his workout today, and then he just feels even worse. The thought of exerting himself, though, makes him drop into unconsciousness almost immediately. 

* * *

His room is pitch black when he wakes up again, and then he’s sprinting as well as he can to the bathroom because _fuck,_ maybe seven laxatives was a really bad idea. 

As disgusting as it makes him feel, he throws back several glasses of water while he’s sitting on the toilet, because his tongue feels like it’s about to tear out of his throat. 

When he’s entirely empty, approximately thirty-five minutes later, he feels so. Light. He knows he isn’t light, of course, but wow, this feeling. He strips down to nothing again, looks at himself in the mirror, runs his fingers up and down his hips and waist, wraps his hands around his wrists, and smooths his hands over the curve of his ass. He takes a long shower, spending most of the time either propped up against the wall or seeing how many of his bones he can feel, or both. 

He’s not tired at all, so he styles his hair, pops a couple more laxatives, and then films a video in his room. It’s funny how just a few hours can make him feel more comfortable in his skin. As he films, he speaks really low and quiet so Phil doesn’t wake up. 

The sun rises eventually, and by the time it does, Dan has already edited and uploaded the video. He sits back, sighs, goes to the bathroom, feels really fucking sick for awhile, and then does his workout. 

He feels more productive than he has in a long time. He feels he can forgive himself for his binge-eating mistake. He feels a little bit on top of the world.

When Phil comes out, Dan is watching cartoons and fiddling with his phone. Dan can see that Phil is giving Dan a wide berth, that when he speaks to Dan, he doesn’t look into his eyes. “Are you feeling better?” 

“So much better, actually,” Dan says. His voice is chipper, and Phil immediately loosens up a little. “Look, I’m really… yesterday was…” He takes a deep breath, and Phil sits on the edge of the couch beside him. Their elbows almost brush. “I was a total asshole and I’m sorry.”

Phil smiles at him, and it’s like he’s glowing, and in turn that makes Dan feel like he himself is glowing. He has the really strong urge to lean over and rest against Phil, but he resists, knowing that it would just make Phil uncomfortable again. “It’s okay,” Phil says, and then, suddenly, _Phil’s_ head is on _Dan’s_ shoulder, and he’s so warm, and Dan can smell his shampoo, and Dan feels like there’s no oxygen left on earth and also like there’s too much oxygen, and a few moments later he’s blacked out, but Phil apparently just thinks he’s leaning his head back and relaxing or something, because he takes no notice of it. Dan comes-to just as Phil gets up and goes to the kitchen to get himself some coffee. The absence of Phil’s warmth makes Dan feel sick all over again. 

* * *

So Dan is pretty much sure that he gets the most attention from Phil when he looks the best he can look. That being said, since the day Phil snuggled up to Dan on the couch, more than a month and a half ago, Dan has done a very good job of maintaining his diet and exercise. He’s gotten four Phil hugs, two Phil shoulder-caresses, one great moment where Phil’s fingers twitched into Dan’s hand and then stayed there for more than a few seconds, and this other really great moment where Phil swept the hair out of Dan’s eyes. 

Dan no longer wants to quit Youtube, no longer wants to move out. Sure, he’s still certain he’s going to spend his life alone, alone and pining after a friend he’ll never have in the way he wants, but he’s resigned to it. He knows that the times when Phil appreciates him make up for the times when he’s alone and miserable in his bedroom. 

Right now is a super important moment for Dan. He takes a deep breath, passes a hand over his eyes, and gets on the scale. The wait while it “reads” him seems to last a lifetime.

Fifty-six point two-four-zero kilograms.

Fifty-six point two-four-zero kilograms!

That night, Dan films a video of himself naked in front of the camera, touching his body all over and proving that there’s not much loose skin left to grab onto. He watches the video back several times and eventually masturbates. After coming, he’s horrified, and he deletes the file, completely ashamed of what he’d just done, and scared to death that someone might somehow come across the video.

He uploads a new Reason Why Dan’s a Fail video the next day, the first video he’s posted in more than two weeks, in which he talks about how he sometimes purposely does terribly at things so he doesn’t make other people feel bad. It’s pretty fucking hilarious, actually, even though it’s covering one of the many things Dan really, really hates about himself. 

Dan is trying to decide between eating a nutrition bar or a bowl of granola when Phil comes into the kitchen. “I just watched your video,” he says, smiling. “It was really funny.” Dan knows Phil well enough to notice that the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and that that probably means he has something he wants to say. Dan immediately gets very tense. He sets down the box of granola and the breakfast bar and he braces himself against the counter, unable to meet Phil’s eyes. There’s a long pause before Phil speaks. Dan gets the impression Phil was trying to gauge Dan’s mood. “You’re really…” he says, then tries again. “You’ve lost a lot of weight, huh?” Dan can’t really place the tone of Phil’s voice—reverence? disgust?—so he decides not to respond at all. “I didn’t really notice until I saw you on film. Diet and exercise have really worked, huh?” 

Dan trails his index finger back and forth across the countertop.

“Can you look at me?” Phil asks, and Dan finally understands the tone of his voice. Fear, worry. Dan looks at him. He doesn’t want his best friend to worry. Phil steps close. Dan gets even more tense. When Phil runs the back of his hand over Dan’s cheek, Dan stops breathing. From there, Phil moves his hand down to Dan’s arm, his fingers brushing Dan’s skin all the way to his hand, which Phil takes and brings close to his face. He examines Dan’s wrist. “Your skin is kinda waxy,” he says. “And it almost…” Dan sways, then shivers when Phil brings his arm up even higher to get a closer look. Dan can feel Phil’s breath on the tips of his fingers. “It almost looks like you have feathers, Dan.”

Dan yanks his hand away, falling a step or two backwards. He can breathe again. “Excuse you,” he says, crossing his arms. He is perfectly aware of the fact that his body hair has been growing in differently lately, and he doesn’t need Phil pointing it out. 

“How much do you weigh?” Phil jumps to the point, and Dan can feel his lungs tearing apart in his chest.

“Mind your own fucking business,” he snarls and makes to leave.

Phil grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, and suddenly Dan is seeing red. “Dan, this isn’t okay—”

“Fuck off!” Dan shouts and pushes at Phil with all of his strength. The older boy stumbles backwards, then gets caught on his own foot and falls to the floor. His eyes are giant, confused as to what just happened, when he looks back up at Dan. To be fair, Dan looks just as perplexed and terrified. 

“You need help,” Phil whispered.

Dan could see the horror so clearly on his best friend’s face. “Mind you own fucking business,” Dan chokes again before leaving the flat entirely.

* * *

When Dan posts a lighthearted poll on Twitter asking about his video, most of the @replies he gets in return are concerning his weight. He’s simultaneously flattered and ashamed. He goes for a jog but has to stop halfway through when his vision goes dark and his limbs get that non-existing feeling that’s also somehow very painful. He finds a park bench and he cries. A woman sits beside him for awhile, tells him everything will be okay, rests her hand on his shoulder, doesn’t ask questions. He appreciates it and misses her when she leaves. He’s not crying anymore, but he’s still just there, in a park, staring off at nothing and wondering what time it is. He eventually dredges up the will to go back to the flat, but he’s horribly frightened of what will happen when he faces Phil. He meets a couple fans while he’s still a few blocks away from the flat and they give him a burst of courage, in part because he’s glad he’s still somehow recognizable, still somehow himself.

He pushed Phil to the floor. He doesn’t feel like himself.

* * *

 

 

**3- Where Dan Stays Down**

Phil wasn’t even there when Dan got back to the house. This separation, this idea of neither of them being in the house when the other is, becomes commonplace, except they are both usually in the house,but they may as well not be. Dan goes about his business and Phil goes about his. They film individual videos, and they also film videos for their joint channel, but there’s something so off about them, they barely laugh, and when they do, it’s so incredibly forced. Only some of their subscribers pick up on it. Dan reads their posts on Tumblr. He also reads the ones where they panic about how thin he is. He’s still at that point where he doesn’t know if he enjoys the attention or if it makes him feel sick, so he just reads them, all of them, and there are more and more with every new video upload, until he’s trembling in his seat and he has to lay down on the floor to get himself to stop.

While Phil never tries to get Dan to eat more, he does cast him lots of worried looks when he thinks Dan isn’t looking. Like when Dan is putting on his trainers for a run, or when he’s measuring out daily proportions of granola on the kitchen table. Dan considers the fact that maybe Phil is preparing to stage an intervention, waiting until he can get Dan’s friends together, but then he remembers that he doesn’t really have many friends anyways. Not anymore.

As time goes on, though, Dan just gets more and more uncomfortable with the situation he’s in, and he’s thinking that maybe an intervention wouldn’t be horrible, and he’s just wishing that Phil would offer to help him again, because he’d probably accept it now. 

He’s cold, always. The hair on his arms, hips, neck, and back is disgusting. It’s fine, but there’s so much of it. Phil was right. It does resemble feathers. And discounting the hunger pains and the sore muscles from all of the exercise, his outside just hurts, all the time, in that same way that teeth hurt when you bite too hard after a dentist appointment, like his skin is pulling too tight across the sharp edges of his bones. He also sleeps so many more hours than he knows he should, and any kind of exertion makes him want to either crawl into bed or just fall flat on the floor right then and there. 

But he just can’t stop himself. He sticks to his schedule. One day he eats a few more portions of granola, and then that night he takes a handful of laxatives, and it’s just too much. He can’t sustain himself this way, but really, does he even want to sustain himself?

He’s back at the start. He wants to quit Youtube, wants to leave Phil’s life forever. Except now, when he thinks hard about it, he kind of considers just giving everything else up, too. He fears, without Youtube and Phil, he’d have nothing left to live for, and thus, no reason to live at all.

* * *

 

 

**4- Where Phil Offers a Hand**

He thinks he must have fainted. His eyelids try to clamp shut, but he forces them open. His eyelashes feel wet, and so do his cheeks, a little. Everything is swirling and he can’t get ahold of anything he sees. There are noises, but he doesn’t know exactly where they’re coming from at first. 

The one he recognizes most immediately is a quiet, steady “shhh.” Repeated. And then he notices that the reason he’s having trouble getting a grasp on the world around him is because the world around him is moving, or, rather, he’s being moved within it. He’s being rocked, back and forth, slowly like he’s a child. And there are arms around his shoulders, and there’s a hand stroking the side of his face and neck. He wants to sink into the warmth, moan in ecstasy, but he’s also so rigid, and his forehead hurts and his chest feels terrible.

The second sound he places is the sobbing. Yes, he’s sobbing, and when he realizes, he shudders and feels cold even though he’s in such a warm embrace.

He lets himself slip back into whatever void he’d been in a few moments before, too exhausted and pained to try for anything else.

* * *

When he comes-to the second time, he feels remarkably better. The sounds around him make sense and nothing is spinning. The golden, morning light that comes in through a window isn’t blinding, but comforting. He’s in a bed, but not his own bed. He only has to look around for a second before he sees that it’s Phil’s. 

He spends a lot of time staring at the blue and green comforter, trying to get a handle on what happened the night before. Nothing but a collection of sounds and sensations, recollections of shame, comes to mind, though.

Eventually he turns over and sees that Phil is asleep beside him. Dan’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of the ruffled, black hair, the smooth, translucent pallor, the fluttering eyelids where light from the window catches on the texture of his skin. Dan knows he shouldn’t do it, but he does. He moves closer. He folds himself against Phil’s body, fists Phil’s t-shirt with both hands, tugging the collar down, and the tucks his head against the exposed flesh of Phil’s neck. Skin on skin, and Phil is so warm. Dan breathes with the rhythm of Phil’s heartbeat.

* * *

The third time he awakens, Phil is awake, too. They’re still pressed close together. Dan is sweating. He feels bad about it but he also doesn’t want to move. Phil is playing with a lock of hair from the top of Dan’s head and doesn’t even notice that Dan has woken up until Dan speaks. “What time is it?” His voice is utterly shot.

Phil drops the hair and lifts Dan’s face so he can see his eyes. Dan wonders if Phil sees vacancy. “About ten-thirty in the morning.”

Dan nods slightly. “What happened?”

Phil sighs. “You came back from a run and passed out right outside the door. You’re lucky I’d ordered pizza or I don’t know how long you would have been out there.” He smiles slightly. “The pizza man was pretty terrified though. He really wanted to call 999.”

“Thank you for not,” Dan whispers.

“I honestly would have, except you kept coming to, and you were crying, and I just. I didn’t want to risk having to let you go.” If Dan weren’t three inches from Phil’s face, he may not have been able to hear Phil’s words. “I was so scared, Dan,” he says, and his voice shakes like he’s about to cry. “Please, Dan.” The younger boy shivers at the sound of his name, spoken so desperately on the lips of his best friend. “You have to let me help you. You have to eat, okay? It’s not just me—everyone’s worried about you. PJ, Louise—even our subscribers, you—you’re scaring us.”

Dan nods again and Phil goes silent.

“Really?” the older boy eventually stammers. Another nod from Dan. “You’ll let me help you?”

Dan presses himself closer to his best friend and tilts his head into his hand. “I actually beg you,” he says, and suddenly he’s crying again, and maybe Phil is too, he can’t really tell.

* * *

 

 

**5- Where Dan Tries Standing**

There’s a day when Dan eats two extra portions of granola and a hard-boiled egg, and maybe he feels a little guilty, but Phil helps him forget.

There’s a day when Dan forgets to go on a run and he doesn’t really care, because he’s watching anime with Phil and nothing could really get better than that.

There’s a day when Dan and Phil upload a gaming video where they’re back to smiling and laughing and genuinely having a good time, also Dan looks just a little bit healthier, and the fans are celebrating, and so are Dan and Phil. 

There’s a day where Dan and Phil go out with some friends, and Dan orders a full plate of fries and he actually doesn’t feel too bad about indulging himself. 

It’s been seven months. 

There was also a day when Dan saw that the number on the scale had gone back up to fifty-eight point something, and he went through and deleted all of his videos off of Youtube. In the afternoon, Phil helped him recover as many as possible, and then helped him decide how to play it off as a joke on Twitter. 

There were several days where Dan downright refused everything Phil tried to offer him. Phil knew, though, if he left Dan alone for long enough, things would probably go back to normal. He was right. The next day, Dan apologized and gratefully took a breakfast bar. 

* * *

Christmas comes, and Dan and Phil have to separate, have to visit their respective families. Just before Dan leaves, Phil pulls him into a tight hug. They’ve been through this many times already, talking it over every day for the last three weeks, but Phil says it again, because he knows Dan needs to hear it. “You can do this, Dan. Think of this as a test. Prove to me that you can be strong on your own. Prove it to yourself, Dan.” Phil goes on to tell Dan that he can call him at any time, any day, whatever is going on, if he needs to. “I’ll talk to you, okay? Okay?” Dan nods and sniffs. He squeezes Phil once more before getting in a taxi. 

On Christmas night, Dan calls Phil. 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, not at all,” Phil says. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just—Phil,” Dan says, “I had turkey and mashed potatoes and part of a biscuit and I feel so okay right now. I’m. This is so stupid, I just. I’m.”

“Proud?” Phil supplies, and Dan can almost hear his smile. “I’m proud of you, too, Dan. So proud. You have to keep it up, though, okay? Keep eating, but don’t push yourself. Only four more days and we’re together.”

Dan’s heart sings. He knows it doesn’t mean what he wants it to mean, but he’s honestly kind of okay with that, now. His existence doesn’t count on the specifics of his and Phil’s relationship. He just appreciates being so close to someone so beautiful.

* * *

For as long as four remaining days seemed to Dan at the time of the phone call, they pass relatively quickly. Soon enough both boys are back at the flat, and Dan is telling Phil about how well he did, and Phil is telling Dan that he looks so _fit_ and Dan is fucking blushing and they’re gazing at each other and smiling and their smiles are both so stupid looking.

And then one morning a couple months later it’s happening again, and Dan feels so full of life as they look at each other, and he’s thinking about how far he’s come and how he wouldn’t give this up for anything when suddenly Phil is kissing him, and he’s swept up in it and he doesn’t really realize what’s going on until Phil finally pulls away.

Dan’s fingers flit to his mouth, confused as to why Phil’s mouth had just been there, thinking that maybe he’d just had a stroke. “What was—you—we—kiss—”

Phil pushes Dan’s hair off of his forehead, leaving his fingers in the resulting tangle. “I love you, Dan,” Phil says. 

Dan is blown away and perplexed. His first reaction is to duck out of Phil’s reach, though he’s not really sure why. He kind of wishes his first reaction would be to swan-dive into another kiss. “But you—you said—you told me—”

“That was a long time ago,” Phil says, his voice still confident even though his smile and the sparkle in his eyes are slowly disappearing. 

“And something—something _changed?_ ” Dan is aghast.

“Well, not really—”

“ _What then?_ ”

Phil regards Dan, eyes soft and kind. “Can we sit?” he asks eventually. 

Dan considers telling him no, telling him to fuck off for fucking with his fucking emotions, but after taking a deep breath, he simply nods.

Phil settles onto the sofa and Dan follows suit, positioning himself a good three feet away. 

“You were always…” Phil looks like he doesn’t know where to start. He toys with his hair for a second before quickly fixing the fringe and sitting up straighter as he begins again. “Dan. From the moment we first talked online you were looking to me for help and answers, and, yeah, okay, I was flattered. But I always wanted you to help yourself, somehow, and that never really happened. When we finally met in person, it was, well, it was more of the same. You wanted me to help you get through your problems with college, you wanted me to tell you that you were doing a good job…” He pauses.

Dan shifts in his seat, crosses his arms, then uncrosses them. He tries to understand what Phil is getting at. “Did you… not want to help me?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Phil sighs. “I just wanted you to do something for yourself for once, to help yourself for once. Not to do something just because I asked you to, and not to come running straight to me when you could have somehow helped yourself.” 

“I’m confused,” Dan says, fingers fumbling in his lap.

“Well, like. When I would ask you if you wanted to do stuff, you’d always say yes, and I never had any idea if you were doing it because you actually wanted to or because I had asked you to. And then, instead of doing what you could to help yourself, you would come to me to fix your problems, and I would, because I didn’t know what else to do. But then, that night, you remember, when you told me how you felt? Honestly, Dan, and please don’t hate me…”

Both boys brace themselves.

“I mean, I felt the same way.”

Dan starts, glaring up at Phil with fierce shock. “You did?” he chokes.

Phil bows his head.

“So why the hell did you lie?”

Dan wouldn’t ever admit it to Phil, but he’s terrified right now, because the last time his vision got this red and he felt so much hate in him, he’d pushed Phil over, and they’d fought for weeks. HE can’t take this right now, he can’t. He works hard to keep his breathing even, to restrain himself, not just because the last thing he wants is to hurt Phil again, but also because he doesn’t want to lose himself in that way. Not after all the hard work he’s put into getting better. 

“Because I didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone who wasn’t ready to be in a relationship?” It comes out as a question, and Dan notices Phil is leaning away from him, and like a wrench in his heart, Dan realizes it’s because his best friend is scared.

He sighs and slumps into the cushions of the couch. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Phil,” he says. “But I understand why you’re afraid.”

After a long pause, Phil goes on as if Dan hadn’t spoken. “In retrospect, I get that it wasn’t my place to decide whether or not you were ready. But I do honestly think that if we’d tried dating back then… we would have fallen apart. I don’t think either of us would have been able to withstand the pressure we would have put on each other.”

Dan shrugs lamely.

“But I look at you now, Dan, and I see so much strength, because while you did fall really hard for awhile, you’ve come back and you’re living life for yourself, like, you’re walking so tall all by yourself. It’s beautiful, Dan. You’re beautiful.”

Dan snorts. “That was rom-com as fuck. Actually this whole conversation is rom-com as fuck and I’d like to leave.”

“Well, at least rom-com means we’re not living a tragedy anymore.” Phil smiles.

“Get out,” Dan laughs. “Just get out right now and never come back. That was awful. That was the worst thing anyone has ever said ever.”

Phil moves to close the distance between them, wanting another kiss, but Dan leans back at the last moment. His index finger finds Phil’s lips. “What I don’t get,” Dan says, “is why you were so keen to help me get better, then, if you were so set on me needing to help myself.” 

Phil takes Dan’s hand down from his mouth and unravels it, lacing his fingers between Dan’s. “You were too far gone,” he whispers. 

When Dan sees that there’s liquid pooling in Phil’s eyes, he feels closer to him than he ever has before. It’s like, in that moment, Dan realizes that Phil’s pain is Dan’s pain, and vice-versa, but not in a fucked up way, and Dan is just overwhelmed because he thinks this is what love is supposed to feel like? And he’s overwhelmed because he has someone in his life who cares so much? He puts his chin on Phil’s shoulder, wraps his arms around him, and squeezes as hard as he can. 

“I love you, Dan,” Phil says for the second time. 

Dan reclines a little to look into Phil’s eyes. A smile turns his lips sideways. “I think after all the years you kept me hanging, I reserve the right to withhold the I-L-Y phrase until it most suits me.” 

“I think,” Phil smirks, “it’s mostly implied, anyways.” 

* * *

**The End (AKA: Thanks For Putting Up With Me)**


End file.
